


Don't forget me

by orphan_account



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 16:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He knew why, of course.He knew why he had kept that locket, for so many years. There were many reasons, and he just could not decide himself to pick one of them because, he felt, all of them were horribly wrong and yet, all of them were right.





	Don't forget me

_“You still wear my locket. Why?”  
“Sometimes… sometimes I ask myself the same question”. _

 

He knew why, of course.

He knew why he had kept that locket, for so many years. There were many reasons, and he just could not decide himself to pick one of them because, he felt, all of them were horribly wrong and yet, all of them were right. 

Did he keep it as a remembrance of the crime he had committed, and thus punish himself, every day of his miserable life, with the reminder of that other existence, so many years ago, that he had cherished and loved, and that now was gone?

Or did he keep the locket because it was the only physical reminiscence he had of Anne, besides the memories he held so preciously in his heart? Did he know that getting rid of the locket would not deliver him from his anguish, but only kill the Anne he had loved once more?

Did he keep it because it reminded him of his happiest days, the days when the locket would be the only thing between him and her, between Olivier and Anne? He could still feel it, warm skin against warm skin, and then the cold metal that Anne refused to remove. 

Now, cold again, this time there was no other body but his own, this time there was no laughter, this time there was no happiness, only agony, and regret, and remorse.  
He had asked himself all these questions, every single day since the one he had seen Anne under that tree, and none of them was the right answer, none of them could explain why he persisted in wearing that locket. 

And yet, he could not destroy this last relic because those memories that killed him day after day, those memories that sent him crawling into a bottle of cheap, bitter wine, a taste so different from the one he had been used to, those memories were also the memories that kept him alive.

Anne’s favourite flowers had been forget-me-nots, a delicate colour that had matched her eyes so well. She had held a small bouquet of them the day he had condemned her to hang, as if she had wanted him to remember, not to forget. 

It was as simple as that, wasn’t it? _This_ was the answer, wasn’t it? 

He knew, deep down, that the only good reason why he kept the locket was that one: not to forget.


End file.
